Weekend Tile Wiggling

It's rainy, so we can't be outside in the yard.   We're lucky that both of us can work from home and The Child can do "enrichment" tasks on-line.

On the gym front:   Sunday I did a 30 minute power walk of the neighborhood (while listening to my Gym Mix), carefully maintaining social distance by walking on the other side of the street from everyone.  There were a lot of folks out power walking.  

Monday, I did some dumbbell work with the 8 lb dumbbells that I own.  I wish I had 15 lb ones, because I have to do a lot of reps to feel like I'm doing anything at all.  Aoife is not helpful at all for doing a home gym routine, as both Mark and I have discovered when trying to do anything approaching yoga or sit-ups.

I made this zellij pattern over the weekend, and it was relaxing to do so.  I am going to see if I can use it as a Zoom background.

Staying At Home With Cats and a Dog

Today is overcast and damp.  I had hoped that I might be able to write outside, but that's not going to happen--even with a deck umbrella.  Kate Brown, the Governor of Oregon, has issued executive order 20-12, which translates to Lockdown-Not-Quite-So-Lite-This-Time.  Still, pretty much everyone is being strongly encouraged to stay at home and not go anywhere if they can help it.

We're going on Day Three with a New Puppy Bull-Terrier Mix.   The cats have moved from full panicked “Oh My God, it’s a dog! Stand you ground! No—puff out to twice size! No—I’m outta here!!” to Irritated Bushiness (Cicero looks like a stereotypical Black Halloween Cat) and a low growled battle song (the lyrics of which are “When the Foeman bares his steel (ta-ra-tara ta-ra tara) We uncomfortable feel...").   Our bedroom is the Cat Sanctuary, and they've taken to fleeing the house through one of the windows.   Even Spencer, Cicero's brother, is on high alert, and performed his signature bound over the chainlink fence when I came out with Dog Smell on my Hands.  

Aoife pretty much wants to play with the cats.  She pretty much wants to play with other dogs.  She loves us, and is a leaner.  She's not quite so sure about other people, although she threw doggy heart looks at some guy in a Toyota muscle car and booming hip-hop (he actually pulled over, got out of his car, and said hello).   She has figured out the home is The Den That Must Be Protected, so there's some barking at the mailman.  When Mark commented on how cliché it was, I responded that Cliché would be a great dog name.  

In other animal-conflict news, there's a hawk or other raptor that's been hanging about and getting mobbed by the local corvids.  Just now as I was writing this, I saw a smallish--maybe a red-tailed hawk--be forced to land in a tree across the street by two crows.  I was too slow with my camera to get any photographs... although I did get a woodpecker in the same branches about fifteen minutes later.

 

Aoife

 We have a new, 40 pound, 8 month year old puppy, probably an American Staffordshire Terrier (i.e. a Pit Bull).  She's a rescue puppy from a Modesto, California shelter.  The name on her papers said her name was "Chanel," but The Chid mostly likely did not find this a butch enough name (I thought it was hilariously ironic).   After a few suggestions like "Bailey" and "Guinness,"  The Chid did some quick research of Irish names and settled on Aoife.   She didn't seem particularly attached to her previous name, and is responding to Aoife.

She's a total snuggle-butt; very sweet and curious; and will bark three short, sharp, "gruffs" at strangers at the door and gate.  She's been trained, as she understands "sit" and "stay" and has good leash etiquette.

This is the first dog we've had in fifteen years.  (Our old beagle, Pickles, succumbed to complications of a hyperactive adrenal gland.)  We'd been talking about adopting for a few months, with vague plans to do so this summer when The Child was out of school  COVID-19 fallout in Oregon prompted Mark to expedite the process.... so Saturday, we went to a pet shelter "just to browse" and (surprise!) came back with a dog (Mark started crying when he thought about the shelter animals in California being killed).

The cats are not amused.  Smokey is threatening to go live with our neighbors across the street (where he already gets kitty treats), and Cicero is hanging out with his brother, Spencer, two houses down and generally pulling the Great Disappearing Barn Cat routine.

The consensus so far is that Aoife is curious and wants to play with the cats--but we're going to let everyone get used to everyone else's scents for about two weeks before there are any face-to-face meetings.  The dog rescue foster mom we got her from showed Mark a video of Aoife pretty much ignoring her cats, which helped convince us she'd be okay with Smokey and Cicero.

COVID19 and Working Out

Saturday morning.  Oregon is on lock-down-lite for COVID19; Governor Kate Brown is telling Oregonians to "stay home, stay healthy" -- meaning, don't leave your house unless you need to go to work, walk the dog, or get groceries.   Going on solitary hikes is okay.   We're lucky that we have a back yard we can escape to -- this morning the sun is shining, the sun on the dew on the grass has turned the lawn into glittering pave, and it feels like it's 60 degrees.

On the gym front... I haven't gone to the gym for about two weeks.  Yesterday I tried jogging around Amazon Park in lieu of using gym elliptical machines.  The idea was that I'd do two laps or at least five songs on the gym music list.  Alas, about a song or two into the session, my right knee started doing something odd along the inside; I'm guessing it doesn't like the pounding along the sawdust trails.  I slowed to a brisk walk and then sped up again.  And then walked again.  And then a fine, fit, jogger dude came the other way and I had to speed up because one always wants to look one's best for the fine, fit, (sweaty) jogger dudes and not like some limping fifty-something gym refugee.

Then I went home and did a cobbled-together workout routine.  Since there's been a run on free weights (and RollerBlades!) at the local Sports Equipment Store, I only have a pair of 8 pound dumbbells -- but I made do.  Okay, I did get a resistance band to mix things up.  Luckily, a bunch of exercises from the Aerobic Routine don't require weights.  There's a plethora of "so you're stuck in your home" gym routine tutorials on the 'Net, so I think I'll be fine.

Herons and Photography

Here's a Delta Ponds heron for you (photo taken March 15, 2020).  This one was near the bridge on the east side of the pond, kind of near Interstate 5.

Mark is fairly good natured about when I photograph birds during our Delta Pond hikes.  I like taking photos because A) I want to preserve the moment, B) herons (and birds in general) look cool, C) they are a convenient reference for sketching, D) seeing how the natural world can arrange elements in aesthetically pleasing proportions is fascinating--I mean, look at the rotation, tessellation, and scaling of the feather shape--, and E) it can feel like a collaboration with the subject.

I think Mark sometimes thinks the camera A) is a barrier to actually enjoying the hike through the ponds, and B) negates any health benefit of a brisk walk as I stop to snap a hundred (mostly blurry) pictures of harassed wildlife.

But he does make an effort to plan walks so the sunlight is behind us and shining on the birds.

Isolating Raptors, Corvids, and Ducks

The Cascades Raptor Center will be closing as a coronavirus safety measure.  This is a good thing--my sense was that it was the last place families could visit, which made social distancing difficult--but it also means not being able to go and photograph or sketch the residents, which is relaxing.

I guess I'll have to get my photographing birds fix by photographing herons Delta Ponds, or photographing the neighborhood corvids.

Slightly related, the University of Oregon announced that their Spring Term Courses are all going to be full remote.  This is going to make things quiet on campus... and I imagine it will feel like Summer Term, only cooler and wetter... this is, of course, assuming that the campus will be open (currently, only students, faculty and staff are supposed to be there) and Eugene or Lane County isn't on some sort of lock-down (entirely possible if we're following Italy's trajectory).

I'm not sure how much work from home I'll end up doing--I currently share my office with various bits of technology, so it's less likely that co-workers would breathe on me.  I will certainly be using more remote support tools.

When Jupiter Aligns with Mars

 I've had the conjunction of the Moon, Mars, and Jupiter on my calendar for about a month.  I suppose I should add Saturn and Mercury to the list of planets, because all four of them are in the eastern sky before dawn.

The moon was scheduled to approach them starting Tuesday, March 17, and swing under or through Jupiter and Mars on the 18th.  I was amused, because right now, any time the Moon is just about to set, it's in the Seventh House and we can all channel our inner Fifth Dimension and start singing "Aquarius."

Tuesday morning was cold and clear.

And the Moon was farther away from Jupiter and Mars than I realized.  This makes it difficult to compose a nice looking photo:  in order for the planets to show up, one has to increase the time the camera shutter is open, which means the Moon washes everything out and/or becomes a brilliant and featureless object.

Also the ecliptic is pretty close to 45 degrees this time of year--as opposed to 68 degrees three months ago at the Winter Solstice--which means I have to go across the street to photograph solar system objects so that I'm not taking artsy photos of my neighbor's rooflines (I still have to deal with utility lines).  

I took a bunch of blurry shots, about eight passible ones, and vowed that I would take more photos on Wednesday (3/18), when the Moon and the planets would be closer to each other and in a more managable field of view.

Of course, that night the clouds rolled in.  I woke up early to a patchwork sky.  It seemed like the clouds were teasing me with a peep show of pre-dawn luminaries.  But I got the camera and tripod ready and checked the skies between brewing tea and eating breakfast, and about an hour later, there were enough rents in the clouds to warrant traipsing across the street and seeing what I could see.

Focusing through the clouds was a little tricky, but I figured I was doing well when I was able to resolve the Galilean moons from Jupiter.  I think the clouds helped some, because they toned down the glare of the moon; also the limb of the moon was thinner than it had been the day before.

I like the color on Wednesday's photos, and I like the features of the Moon on Tuesday's photos.

Birds of Late Winter

Monday, Mark and I went to Delta Ponds.  Mark desires to see beavers building their dam, and the best time to see them is at dusk.  The actual moment that is the most optimal is a question:  too early, and they really aren't swimming around in the murky waters; too late and the sun has set and you can't see anything other than wakes in the water (which are most likely nutria).

We keep going to the east end of the ponds, which is optimal for the silhouettes of herons in the trees.  The herons I photographed last time as they did their mating dance in the trees have put up a nest.

Tuesday, I went to the Cascades Raptor Center (partially because it was an annoying day, mostly because the sun was out).  I managed to get a photo of Neville in a new part of his aviary.   I learned (to my dismay) that Neville doesn't like really large camera lenses.

Pip, Peregrine Falcon was eating in the back of his aviary.  I like this particular photograph because of the inner and outer curve of his head.

 Danu, an Osprey, was brought out.  She's very vocal, and chatters to everyone most of the day.  Because her enclosure is roped off, I thought she was slightly upset by the visitors, but I was told that if she was upset she'd make less of a high-pitched keen (which can be heard over rushing river waters) and more of a honk.











I managed to get a photo of Danu's nictating membrane.

Normally, Danu's aviary is set back a ways, behind a rope, so it's difficult to see her, especially in the afternoon when the sunlight is shining on the mesh of her enclosure.

 All of the residents were the most vocal that I've heard them.  Amazon the golden eagle was building a nest (I think) and making gibbering noises like a creature from the Haunted Woods surrounding the Wicked Witch of the West's castle.  Dmitri the Eurasian eagle-owl was extra hooty, and was chattering like a cat as he beaked some gravel a handler put on his roost so he wouldn't tear up the astroturf.  Puck chittered at anyone who walked by his aviary -- I'm not sure if he wanted them to see his mouse or not.

Since the equinox is around the corner, the birds are getting hormonal.  They're also gaining weight since the days and nights have been warmer.

The burrowing owl, Ra, came out while its aviary was being cleaned out.   I managed to take a zillion photographs of Ra, who seemed very relaxed and curious about the turkey vultures flying in the area.

Ra's handler and I had a brief discussion about who was the cuter, Ra, or Ravi, a Western Screech Owl -- they're both pretty darn cute.

I would have stayed a little longer, but I had to go to Dad Taxi duties.

Return to Silver Falls

 Sunday, we met some friends for a hike along Silver Falls.  The last time we went was a summer a few years ago (August 2017), when it was much dryer (and smokier).  Some of the falls were mere trickles back then.  Since we're still in Winter and there has been rain, the falls this time were more vigorous.  And the paths more muddy.


The falls are in a park that was built in the 1930's by the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC).  The buildings are stone and wood beam construction, only not as fancy as the Mt. Hood Ski Lodge.


I'm not sure that I have a favorite fall, although I like the ones that cascade over a rocky lip and cover crescent shaped caves.  I'm unsure if the caves were ever used by the native folks.  I imagine they'd be a pleasant campsite during the summer months.


The only down-side of the hike was that during the end, as I was looking down to avoid stepping in a puddle or sinking into a mud-hole, I walked smack into a branch hanging over the path.  The blow was softened somewhat by my glasses, which translated the force of the branch across the bridge of my nose.  I thought for a moment that my glasses had become a permanent part of my face, but luckily, I was able to unembed them.


Surprisingly, the only wildlife we saw there were a couple of very tame and aggressive ducks.   While they weren't nearly as bad as the seagulls of the Atlantic City Boardwalk, these birds had no personal boundaries, and weren't above lunging at small children in the hopes of nicking a few stray crumbs.


I thought maybe we'd see osprey or bald eagles or red-tailed hawks, or other raptors, but the only ones we saw were the ones huddled in trees and surveying foggy pastures.


Oh! That's right, just out of Coburg we saw a herd of elk along I-5.

Finishing The Water Feature

 Saturday, Mark and I managed to move the stone into place.  Origianlly, I was going to try to tie the stone to a long beam of wood and use either end as a lever to walk the stone into place.

When we tried to lift it, it became clear that the stone weighed too much for two men in their mid-fifties to move by themselves.

Mark quite reasonably pointed out that the stone was already on the wagon (the sides of which were being destroyed by all the levers I was using to try to wiggle it into place, and that we already had it on a long plank that we could use as a slide and let gravity do most of the work for us.

So, we pulled the wagon over the lawn (which left divots in the grass) and got the wagon and the stone ready for sliding.  With some careful maneuvering, and levering, we managed to get the stone in place on the center column of the fountain's basin.

 Nobody had fingers or toes or tails or paws crushed.  (Yes, I did have to relocate Smokey, who had to sniff where the stone was going to come to rest.)

Once it was upright, moving the stone was fairly easy.  I rotated it with the smooth, polished side facing south, on the theory that it would reflect sunlight.  I'm not entirely sure that it will, as we have not been around at the same time as bright, direct sunlight in the yard.

Then came the difficult task of snaking the water pump's hose up the hole drilled into the stone.  I'm going to guess the water in the basin wasn't too much warmer than 45F.  I could probably stand to have my hand in the water for about ten seconds before muttering half-enunciated oaths, whipping my hand out of the water, trying to dry it off, shake it, and simultaneously shove it under my armpit to try to warm it up, all the while cavorting around in a little tight circle.

Eventually, I fed most of the hose into the stone, and was ready to turn the pump on.  Water flowed over the stone, and Mark played a version "Time To Say Good-bye" he had queued up.  I fiddled around some with the setting on the ball valve regulating the flow through the stone in order to find the sweet spot where not too much water flows out and then splashes out of the basin.

"Go get some colored rocks," said Mark, who did not want to come with me.  So I went to the landscaping place and started looking for rocks to cover up the plastic cover over the basin.   After some casting about, I found the bin of turquoise colored "pebbles," and began... sorting them onto a cart.   It did occur to me as I was selecting rocks based on on more-polygonal/less-spherical, more darker-blue-or-green/less-pastel that possibly I was being anal-retentive about rock choice.  Eventually, I got some black accent pebbles (which were more pebble-like and less very-large-ice-cube-like).

I sort of had a problem in that I wasn't sure exactly how much rock to get:  too little and the tacky, industrial black plastic would show; too much, and I'd have to figure out a use for the extra.  Also--as Mark pointed out later, if I got too much I ran an increased risk of overloading the basin's cover and having everything collapse on top of the water pump.  I wound up getting some fractured granite scales as well, on the theory that the sharp shapes would be an artistic contrast to the rounded pebbles.

 About ninety minutes later... I was heading back home with a car full of rocks.

Because I wanted the rocks to look nice, and because I didn't want them to get too much dirt and mud into the basin's water, I washed the rocks when I got home.   The water out of the garden hose was only marginally warmer than the water in the fountain's basin, and after a few minutes of rubbing the stones free of dirt with a cloth, I settled for soaking them for a few minutes, then spraying them off.

At some point during all of this, it started sprinkling, and I got some tea.

I placed the rocks around the stone with a growing sense of having gotten carried away at the landscaping place.  Mark came out an mentioned the weight of the stones, and also expressed some surprise that I had gotten more than one color of rocks.  He thought I was going to do some sort of yin-yang pattern.  I had a vague notion of quartering the turquoise stones somehow, or edging them with the granite scales, but the effect in practice wasn't as cool as I thought it would be.

I ended up concentrating the black rocks beneath the polished face of the stone, as if they were the dark continuation of a waterfall streaming off of it.   I think the effect sort of works.

Looking at the finished product, I concluded that the fountain looks "elemental," and "zen," ... which means that I'll probably be fiddling with the stones for a while until I can get a look that's more cultivated.   Very likely, I'll remove a few stones so the feature looks less cluttered or like a landscaping truck dumped a bunch of pretty rocks out of a truck and more like the stones were placed on purpose.

The sound of the water falling through the rocks, however, is perfect.  The next step is wiring the house with some outside outlets so Mark will feel less anxious about electrical mishaps.

Gym Etiquette

Gym Post:  Went to the gym Wednesday for the Push-Pull Routine.

While I was there, I watched someone do some kind of bending exercise with a thirty pound barbell weight on his shoulders.  As I watched how his spine (and not his hips) was bending, I kept thinking that he was going to throw his lower back out.  It was one of those awkward moments where on one hand you don't want someone to hurt themselves, but on the other hand, you're not a trainer and maybe that's the way the exercise is done.

 I know "Hey, um, I think you're doing that wrong," isn't one of the top five things I want to hear when I'm working out.

Wildlife on a Sunday Evening

 Sunday evening, Mark and I went to Delta Ponds.  Mark really wanted to see some beavers.  We got there about 5:40 or so, a few minutes before sunset.  I was very glad I had listened to Mark when he said to wear the wool cloak over my already existing two layers.

In the distance, herons roosted in the trees; it's their nest-building season.  I did wish we had come in the morning, because the sunlight would have been shining on the birds instead of sinking behind them, and the light for photography would have improved during our visit.  

The ducks and the geese flew in to search for overnight spots along the shore.  We saw a lot of nutria.  There were many, many gnawed stumps of  trees where the beavers had been busy, but we only saw the new dam they've constructed.  

By 6:30 most of the daylight was gone, and we made our way home.

The sky was clear-ish, and I took photographs of the Moon, Taurus, and the Pleiades.  When the Moon is half-full, it's difficult to photograph it with stars because the Moon washes everything out.


Went to the Gym Monday for the aerobic routine.  I managed to do all of the sets, including the burpees at the end -- so, yay me!  This means that I'm a little sore all over today (I'm also going to blame hefting concrete pavers around Sunday).